Jockeying for You

by Stacy Hoff

  “Steven, lower your voice, will you? You don’t want the club to kick us out. And Dina will kill you if she hears you’re acting up. She never lets you out of the house as it is. Keep it up, and she’ll hire a guard to make sure it never happens again.” He escorted Steven to a table further away from the bar, off in a corner. They each took a seat.

  A moment later, the bartender set their drinks down with a courteous nod.

  “What’s up with you, Steven? Is Dina making you crazy? I love my sister but I know she can be . . . particular in how she handles things.”

  “Yeah. Particular. She wants another baby. I don’t want a fourth child. Having three boys is more than enough.”

  Jake didn’t know whether to laugh or grimace at the news. “Uh, maybe your sex lives is something I ought to stay out of . . .”

  “It’s not only about the sex, Jake. It’s how she acts. Dina wants to treat me like a stud. Like one of your horses. Shoved into a breeding barn with a filly in heat and forced to have a go at it.”

  Jake tried to loosen the tie and top button of his collar. “Yeah, Steven, I’m not sure I should be hearing all this . . .”

  “Okay. Fine. Let’s focus on you. Tell me about the hot fox you’ve got a thing for. Don’t lie, because I’ve known you for fifteen years now, so I’ll know if you do.”

  Jake sputtered. “All right. You’ve got me. Maybe I do have a thing, as you put it, for the trainer I recently hired. She’s . . .” His voice trailed off as he played with the small wet napkin under his glass. I’m going to sound like an idiot. “She’s nice. That’s all.”

  He watched Steven put down the shot of whiskey and release a howl of drunken laughter. “Nice? You mean her body’s nice, don’t you?”

  Jake’s punching arm got twitchy again. “Stop pretending you’re an ass, will you? You treat Dina great. I know you respect women.”

  “Yeah, okay, I do.” Steven hung his head low. “You’re killing my image. Killing it!” he yelled at the top of his lungs.

  Jake winced as the bartender shot them a stern look.

  “Whoa, bro,” Jake admonished. “You’ve got to keep it down.”

  Steven’s voice began to quiver. “I love my wife.”

  “I know you do. But keep it down, will you?”

  “How ’bout you?” Steven asked in a dramatic whisper. “You want a wife?”

  Jake raked a hand roughly through his hair. “You know you’re slurring your words, right?”

  “Noth I’mph not!”

  “Yes, you are. I’ll be driving you home for sure.”

  “Ansther my question. Do you wanna wifey or what?”

  “Are you offering one?” Jake answered dryly.

  “No.” Somehow Steven managed a smile through his alcoholic haze.

  Jake smiled back. Steven was a nut but he was funny, and family. “Yeah, man. I want to get married.” Jake shut up at the sudden tug of his heart. “I thought I had the real thing with Betsy. It’d be nice to have more than business partners to talk to. A life partner, you know? I see what you and Dina have, and I think it’s pretty great.”

  Steven’s face lit up. “You need a girlfriend.” Then his face turned into a scowl. “Dina’s been hounding me to set you up. She has one of my cousins in mind.”

  “Forget it. Nothin’ doin’.” Jake called over the bartender. “Can I get another whiskey double?” As soon as the drink was placed in front of him he drained the glass. Seconds later, he waved to the bartender again and ordered one more. Guess we’ll both be taking a cab home.

  “Another beer, here!” Steven shouted at the top of his lungs.

  Jake grimaced. The amount of the tip he’d have to leave the poor beleaguered bartender would be staggering.

  When they finished their drinks they picked up their conversation. “Anyway, you’re right about not wanting to be fixed up,” Steven slurred. “My cousin Maude is a real troll.”

  Jake couldn’t help it, he laughed. “Not nice, Steven.”

  “All right, that was too harsh. Maude looks like an anteater. Really long nose and very round body.”

  “That was nice?”

  “To anteaters? Probably not. How about bagpipes then? Bagpipes have long skinny protrusions with a great big baggy gut. Just like Maude.”

  “Wow, Steven. You make a great pitch for dating her. If your successful real estate business ever fails you can always start a dating website. Call it bagpipebellychicks.com. I’m sure you’ll gets lots of hits.”

  Steven leaned forward over the tiny table, his eyes wide. “Do you really think so, Jakey?”

  “Nope. Not even a hard-up Scotsman would log on.”

  “Damn. Dina wanted me to earn more money. She’s thinking of having an extension built onto our house.”

  Jake frowned. “It’s already got six bedrooms. How much bigger does she need?”

  “She doesn’t. But you know how it is, always keeping up with the Joneses. Maryellen Butler and Lydia Knightly are building additions so now Dina feels she needs to do this, too. And you know how your father is, always wanting us to showcase a lifestyle suitable for the—” Steven made air quotes. “—rich and famous.” He gave a loud belch and then continued, his voice shaky. “But I don’t wanna pay for it. The real estate market has been dicey.” Steven then twisted his body around to the bar and called over for another beer.

  The bartender gave them a stern look. “I already let the concierge know you guys either need to be picked up by somebody or have a car service called,” the elderly gentleman said. The tone wasn’t rude but it left no opportunity for rebuttal.

  “We figured. It’s not a problem,” Jake answered, now free to slur his words, too. Seconds later, their drinks appeared.

  Steven picked his glass up with apparent delight and took a sip. “Dina told me your dad wants you to date, too.”

  “Are you still blathering on about my love life?”

  “You mean your lack of love life.”

  Jake exhaled a hard breath of air that sounded like a hiss. “You’re worse than either of them.”

  “Nope. They’re way worse.”

  “Worse on multiple levels. My dad wants me to date only who he wants me to date. Society types. How do you think I got hooked up with Betsy?”

  “Oh. That would explain it.”

  “You didn’t like her either.”

  Steven took another swig. “Not a bit.”

  Jake laughed. “I wish I could say the same. To this day I’m amazed I actually fell for someone like her.”

  “Fell for her, huh?” Steven started to sing “Timber” in a falsetto voice that would insult both Pitbull and Kesha.

  Jake gave him a flat stare. “Lucky for you I’ll attribute all this to the alcohol.”

  Steven sucked down a third of the glass in one gulp. Another audible burp followed. “Sorry. But’s not my fault I’m drunk. You got me drunk,” he pretended to accuse.

  “Yeah, right. I think you got me drunk.”

  “No way, bro.” Steven’s phone rang. “’scuse me. It’s the wifey. I’d better take her call, if I know what’s good for me.” He muttered under his breath, “She’s almost as scary as your father.”

  “Duh. No shit, Sherlock.” Jake nodded until a feeling of vertigo hit him. “Double shit.” Definitely had too much to drink. Five minutes later, Steven was still talking on the phone. Well, more like listening, since his mouth was closed, his head hung in shame. Whatever bashing Dina was dolling out, Steven was taking it. It was amazing the amount of crap a guy would take if he loved a woman.

  Jake glanced at his own smart phone, which lay on the little table, silent. It would be nice if his phone rang with a woman on the other end. Double bonus points if the woman was not ranting. Or his sister. Or h
is ranting sister. He shuddered.

  Unconsciously his fingers glided over the phone’s icons as if trying to find out on their own who to contact. Until the bartender distracted him, putting some pretzels and chips down in front of him. When Jake thanked him, and the bartender had left, he heard his phone miraculously ringing. What the . . . ?

  “Hello?” said a feminine voice he could not forget.

  Shit.

  “Hello, Jake? Are you there? I think you just called me. Are you worried about Handsome Dancer?”

  His skin twitched from wincing. “Sorry, Ryder. I didn’t mean to call you. My mistake.”

  Melodious laughter rang through the air. “You butt-dialed me? At eleven o’clock at night? Good to know you’re still active at this hour. I was fast asleep. I wake up early to take care of horses, you know. Like yours, for instance.”

  Thank God she sounds amused.

  “Jake, you are there, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. Yes, I’m here.” He gulped loudly then winced again, hoping his phone didn’t transmit the sound.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. A little drunk is all.”

  “Where are you? Are you by yourself? Do you need a ride?”

  “No. The country club already arranged car service for us.” He heard nothing. Silence. “Ryder? Are you still there?”

  “Yes, of course.” Her voice sounded tighter now. “I hope you and your date get home safe.”

  “Date?” His voice sounded impassioned now, even to his own ears. “Who said anything about a date?”

  “You said us. So I thought, well, never mind. As long as you’ve got someone to watch out for you I won’t have to worry.”

  But I don’t have someone to watch out for me. That’s why I worry.

  “Good night, Jake. Take care.”

  “Wait!”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I said—I said wait. I’m sorry I dialed you by accident. But I’m not sorry we’re talking.”

  An exasperated exhale came through the phone line. “Go back to the person you’re with, Jake Carter. And sober up.”

  “You can tell I’m really drunk, huh?”

  “I’d have to be deaf to not figure it out. Go back to the person you’re with and go home.”

  He paused. Maybe because she knew he was drunk he could get away with his next words. “I’d rather talk to you. Have you bring me home. I like you, Ryder Hannon. I like you a lot.”

  She laughed. “You had more to drink than I thought. Are you sure your country club is calling car service for you?”

  “I may be drunk but I’m also honest. I think you’re hot.” His head was swimming. He hoped to God he wouldn’t regret this in the morning.

  “Okay, Romeo. I’ll be nice and forget all about this little drunk dialing escapade. Have a good ni—”

  “I’m serious, Ryder. It’s not the alcohol talking. I’m attracted to you. You’re so kind. To everybody, not just animals. It’s like you have magical charms and everything falls under your spell. I’m under your spell.”

  “Jake—”

  “I’m serious! I think you’re amazing. Beautiful inside and out.”

  She was quiet. His heart beat fast and heavily. “Say something, Ryder. Anything. We can always deny later this phone call ever happened. No matter what, I still want you training Handsome Dancer.”

  After a moment, her voice came through the line, no louder than a whisper. “Promise we’ll forget this conversation ever happened?”

  His heart was now thundering in his chest. “I give you my word.”

  “I like you, too, Jake.”

  Her voice was so soft. Had he heard wrong? Or maybe she just meant she liked him as an owner. Or a friend.

  “Have a good night, Jake.”

  “You, too, Ryder.”

  “Thanks,” she said quietly before hanging up.

  Jake felt a hole in his stomach. Nerves from talking to her? Or alcohol-induced nausea? He was starting to feel lightheaded, too. Given the fact his brother-in-law’s face was bloated and green, Steven was faring no better.

  “I’ve got to go,” Steven said miserably. His head hung low like a hound dog that’d been punished for behaving badly.

  “Right. Let me get a paper bag before I get into a car with you.”

  “Me? You’re no better. You look like you’re gonna puke, too.”

  “No way. I’m made of steel.”

  The two men left the bar, passing several lushly decorated corridors before they reached the front lobby of the grandiose facility. The concierge came right over to them. “We have car service already waiting for you two gentlemen.”

  “Thanks. And thank the bartender for me, will you?”

  “Yes, of course, sir. But a woman called us about your need for car service, too.”

  Steven was miserable again, his eyes downcast like a defeated dog. “Damn. Dina doesn’t trust me. I told her we’d make sure we got home safely.”

  “Sorry to correct you, sir, but the lady who called was a Ms. Hannon.”

  A large grin spread out over Jake’s face. “I guess she does care,” he marveled.

  “Yeah,” Steven said, elbowing Jake in the gut. “It’s awesome to be cared about, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, I do,” Jake agreed, meaning it.

  Chapter 5

  When Ryder showed up to the stables the next day, it wasn’t a surprise to see Mindy waiting for her with her usual Cheshire cat smile. What was unusual was the fact that Mindy wasn’t there to spill the details about a night of debauchery. No, Mindy’s purpose was to get Ryder to spill the details of her evening.

  “Mindy, are you stalking me or something?” Ryder half-teased. How would you know if I was speaking to Jake Carter late last night?”

  “I have my ways.” Mindy smiled mysteriously. When Ryder crossed her arms over her chest and arched an eyebrow, Mindy expelled a loud huff of air. “Oh all right, I’ll ’fess up. My friend Chuck was filling in for the regular concierge at the country club.”

  “The same Chuck you always talk about? The one you want to hook up with?”

  “Yep. I must mention you a lot to him, too, since he recognized your name.” A slow smile spread across her face. “And he also recognized Jake Carter’s name. So spill.”

  “There’s nothing much to say.”

  Mindy frowned. “Are you going to give me that? Seriously?”

  Ryder sighed. “Yeesh, all right. But there really isn’t that much to it. Jake butt-dialed me and since I could tell he was drunk I called the country club to make sure he had a ride.”

  “He butt-dialed you? Why can’t I ever get that lucky?” She pretended to sigh dramatically. “I wish Jake Carter would butt-dial me. He’s sooooo dreamy!”

  Ryder bit back a laugh. “Are you done?”

  “Hardly.”

  “What is it you want to know exactly?”

  “Do you two have the hots for each other, or what?”

  Ryder bit her lower lip. “I like him,” she said cautiously. “For an owner he’s extremely open to listening to what a trainer has to say.”

  “That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Mindy chastised. “I’ve known you a long time. You’re not dead. Why do you act it? Are you allergic to romance or something? Jake is mega hot, huge in this industry, and seems to really be into you.”

  Ryder took in Mindy’s words but didn’t answer.

  “Come on, Ryder,” Mindy urged. “Love is like horseracing. They’re both gambles. But they’re risks worth taking.”

  “What makes you think Jake is ready to gamble on love? He only butt-dialed me, for God’s sakes. You make it sound like he proposed.”

 
“I’d take a proposition from him any day.”

  “Mindy, cut it out, will you? I said proposed not propositioned.”

  Mindy laughed. “Start with one to get to the other.”

  Ryder shot her a look.

  “Okay, okay,” Mindy relented. “I’m being serious now. You want to blow off the significance of his phone call as a mere butt-dial. Let’s see. Did Jake hang up once you answered? Or did he want to talk to you instead?”

  “Talk to me, of course, but it would have been rude otherwise.”

  “He could have simply apologized and hung up.”

  “He tried.”

  “Not hard enough apparently. It wouldn’t have been rude to end the call. Mistakes happen. But he talked to you for a while, didn’t he?” When Ryder bit her bottom lip and stayed silent Mindy pressed more. “What did he say?”

  Ryder shook her head.

  “Spill,” Mindy insisted.

  “He said I’m amazing,” Ryder said so softly it was hard to even hear herself.

  “Amazing, huh?” Mindy’s grin was bigger than Texas. “I don’t think he butt-dialed you at all. I bet it was an excuse to talk to you.”

  “Mindy, you’re being crazy as—”

  “Sure I’m crazy,” Mindy interrupted with a wave. “But I’m not blind. When I saw him stare at you the last time he was here, it was with eyes so hot I’m surprised they didn’t leave scorch marks on your skin. They practically branded you, like you’re a horse from the Wild West.”

  “You’re exagger—”

  “Nope. I remember it crystal clear. I wish Chuck would look at me that way.” Mindy lowered her volume. “I wish anyone would look at me that way. I’d be all over that. He wouldn’t have to look like Jake Carter or even have powerful connections. Or gobs of money. I’d simply be happy if the guy’s into me. Truly into me.” Mindy contorted her face. “I’m thirty-eight years old, Ryder. I’m physically fit, but nowhere near your petite size. I don’t have your blue eyes or your blond hair. My long brown braid already has some grays in it . . .”